


No Lullabies

by Snapinator



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: 2nd Person, Angst, Choose Your Own Adventure, Gen, Illustrations, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The violence isn't too bad, but better safe than sorry, no beta we die like men, pick a path
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:33:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23974555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snapinator/pseuds/Snapinator
Summary: A summary of a choose-your-own-adventure I'm running for some friends. Opening up soon to more people---I'll be honest. I have no idea how to summarize this story yet because I don't want to give anything away that may influence the way participants vote.So far chat controls a kid named Elwood who's lost in the woods, and boy howdy was it a mistake leaving a child in their care. Will Elwood find his way home? What's with this strange pokemon stalking him? Only time will tell.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	No Lullabies

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I have no idea what I'm doing, but we're making this happen
> 
> I feel calling this chapter 'Session Zero' is highly appropriate given all the experimentation running behind the scenes. This is actually a rewrite of the original updates to make them longer and more consistent in presentation. It's still hecking short, but this is honestly half of what I have planned for this particular section.

It’s the cold that drags you out of your endless march. You don’t know how long you’ve been alone out here. You left some time after lunch, but now the setting sun is dyeing the woods a harsh orange and dragging the temperature down. You sigh, tucking your hands under your arms and pausing to get your bearings.

It’s quiet too. When have the woods ever been this quiet?

No birds stir in the trees. No bugs shrill from the shadows. Even the air is still, dead, thick and sticky in your lungs. Something is wrong, fundamentally wrong with this part of the woods, but you can’t figure out what.

Honestly it’s starting to freak you out. Staying still is making you feel exposed, so you press on. What other direction is there to go but forward? Homeward, at least you hope. That doesn’t help the knot of anxiety growing in your chest or the mounting pressure in your ears. Beginning to panic, you don’t notice yourself running. You’re too distracted by the thoughts swirling in your head. _Why is it so quiet?_ You shouldn’t be here, wherever here is. You shouldn’t--

Something catches your ankle, and with a strangled cry you fall. It’s as if a spell has been broken. Your ears pop and suddenly there is sound - a brook bubbling nearby, branches swaying and rustling in the breeze, your own heaving breaths. Your confusion is quickly overcome with relief as you crawl to your feet.

This is where our story begins. You’re a 12 year old boy. You love being outdoors and exploring the woods. You’re sweet and kind to a fault. Your name is Elwood and…

...you are hopelessly lost. Maybe it’s time to rethink your situation.

_Should you…_

  * _Follow the river?_


  * **_Climb a tree for better visibility?_**


  * _Stay put?_



If only you could find your way into town. Getting home from there would be a snap. It’s too bad you’re so low to the ground; there’s nothing to see but forest stretching endlessly in all directions.

One tree in particular does catch your eye. It’s tall with lots of low branches and hand holds, and you quickly form an idea. Carefully, you pick your way through the lower branches and scale its trunk. You climb higher and higher and… get stuck halfway up when a particularly stiff breeze makes you lose your nerve.

_Do you…_

  * _Climb down?_


  * _Stay put?_


  * **_Climb higher?_**


  * _Other?_



You’re so close though! Turning back now would be a waste, so you press on. Carefully you inch your way up. When you run out of trunk, you climb one of the thicker branches until… Yes! You can just make out some lights south of you. You have a direction! One that is, admittedly, the opposite direction you’ve been walking.

There’s no time to dwell on that, though, as another fierce gust of wind manages to shake you from the tree and send you crashing down. Ouch. At least there are a lot of branches to break your fall, but you don’t really appreciate that fact as you land in a bruised heap at the base of the tree. Gosh frick that hurt.

_As you lay there shaking, you decide to…_

  * _Close your eyes for just a minute…_


  * **_Look yourself over for injuries._**


  * _Get up!_


  * _Other_



_(author's note: a popular write-in response was "die")_

Tempting it may be, you can’t just stay curled on the forest floor forever. It’s probably not wise to move too much either. At least not until you know what the fall did to you. You hurt all over, but you can trace most of the pain to your right side which took the brunt of your landing. Your leg aches and a cut on your arm stings horribly. Your head feels like it’s full of cotton.

Fighting back tears, you push yourself into a sitting position and start applying pressure to your wound. You haven’t much first aid knowledge… or any, really, but you’re sure this is something people do. Too bad you don’t have anything to bandage it with. You _could_ use part of your shirt, but by this point it’s so filthy you’d just as well stuff the wound with dirt.

Minutes pass with you hunched at the foot of the tree, breathing slow, getting your bearings, but you’re not calming down. If anything, you’re becoming increasingly on edge. Something is grating at your nerves, but…

And then it hits you. It’s quiet. Eerily so. That awful feeling from earlier is back, but it feels worse somehow. Like you’re not alone.

_What do you do?_

  * _**Stay very, very still.**_


  * _Scream._


  * _Approach it._


  * _Other_



You freeze in place, hardly daring to breathe. Slowly, slowly your eyes drift across the clearing, searching the increasingly long shadows for the disturbance. _When did it get so dark?_

And then you see them. Twin pricks of gold shining in the thickest shadows. You stifle a whimper as they drift forward in a wave of darkness, thick and rolling like fog, fixated on you.

You do your best to hold still, you really do, but it’s so cold and _god you’re shaking._ This was a bad idea. A very very very bad idea. Is it too late to run? You chance a closer look and bite back a sob. It’s right there. The fog is twisting, peeling away and suddenly you can’t take it anymore. If you’re going to die here, you at least want to see what sort of mean, nasty thing is going to do you in.

At least, you think that would be better than just closing your eyes and letting it take you unaware. It’s too late now as your head twists around and-- oh.

It’s a pokemon. You’re not sure what it is exactly, but it isn’t attacking. It’s just… staring.

_What do you do?_

  * _Staring match_


  * **_Pet it_**


  * _Scare it away!_


  * _Other_



You know better than to mess with wild pokemon. From your experience they can be dangerous. Unpredictable. Skittish… but this one is just so fluffy. There’s something else about it too. A heavy sadness hangs in the air, hollowing out the little fox’s eyes and dragging down its form into something small, hunched, vulnerable. It really looks like it needs a hug, and by gum are you a hugging machine.

Still, judging by how the pokemon tenses and skitters back as you shift around to face it, this will require some tact. You sigh, letting your gaze drift away from the fox’s face, breaking eye contact but staying careful to keep its small form in view. Slowly, carefully, you raise your right hand and let it hang in the air about nose level, trying not to wince as your wound shifts under your grip.

Predictably the pokemon flinches back at the movement but otherwise stays put. You smile patiently and wait. It doesn’t take long, less than a minute, for the fox’s curiosity to win over its distrust. It creeps forward, one step, then two, until its muzzle is inches from your hand. The pokemon’s nose twitched and its eyes slid past the hand to meet yours, head cocked. It’s all you can do to suppress a squeal of delight because _isn’t that the cutest thing?_

Its gaze sweeps over you, taking in your slightly battered appearance before snapping to your shoulder with intensity. Suddenly the mood is a lot heavier - literally, the pressure is building in your ears and your breath catches in your chest.

Then all at once it stops. You crack your eyes open - _when did they close?_ \- and find yourself alone in the clearing.

Surprised, you call out to the little… um. You’re still not really sure what to call the pokemon. Maybe you can come up with your own name for it should you meet again. Until then, though, it’s just you and the twilight. It might be time to get moving.

**Author's Note:**

> that's the first batch of updates!
> 
> I haven't really written anything since middle school (research papers don't count), and boy howdy have I forgotten how to word. I'm slowly remembering how to spin a narrative, but any advice is appreciated! Particularly with presentation and weak points in my writing.


End file.
